


iron masks and spider kisses

by letthesongtakeflight



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Canon Rewrite, F/F, Female Tony Stark, IronWidow - Freeform, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, One-Sided Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tonynat, ironwidow endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24734182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letthesongtakeflight/pseuds/letthesongtakeflight
Summary: In this lifetime, Natasha Antonia Stark was born a girl.A tale of two Natashas and how they navigate the world of superheroes and secret identities.
Relationships: Natasha Romanov/Tony Stark
Comments: 57
Kudos: 164





	1. 1

In this lifetime, Natasha Antonia Stark was born a girl. 

The only child of Howard and Maria Stark, heiress to Stark Industries. Before cameras, a skinny girl with a gold ribbon in her dark hair, a starched dress in pale yellow to match, feet in pressed white stockings and shiny black shoes. At home, a scrappy child more comfortable in an old t-shirt and torn jeans, tinkering with robots on her bedroom floor. 

She was always Toni, never Nat, as soon as she was old enough to decide that for herself. Hated the way “Nat” sounded in her father’s grating voice, hated the patronising way her mother said it. Edwin Jarvis was the first to respect her wishes, called young Miss Stark “Miss Toni” instead of “Miss Natasha”. Toni was grateful for that. 

Toni was eighteen and away at college when her parents died. Refused to go home for Christmas – and missed their last day alive. Mourned them in a bottle of rum, alone in her room. 

When she stopped crying, the first thing she did was take a pair of scissors to her long brown hair. She stood amidst long clumps of hair discarded on the bathroom floor and ran her fingers through the uneven strands. She looked in the mirror, and for the first time in days, smiled. 

Toni was twenty one when she returned home and took over her father’s empire from Obadiah Stane. A woman at the head of the world’s most powerful weapons dealer. She was never going to be taken seriously, and she was never going to allow that. Nor would she allow them to make her a man. If she was to play this game with them, she would do it as a woman. So she grew out her pixie cut, put on makeup like war paint and dresses like armour. She polished herself until all softness was gone, until she was all sharp angles and gilded planes. A woman cut from iron, from titanium. 

It took her five years to earn the respect of the old men under her. Her father’s men. The first person she hired was Virginia “Pepper” Potts. Her PA turned right hand woman. Together, they took Stark Industries back from Howard and returned it to Toni. In Toni’s mind, part of that belonged to Pepper. At least 12%. 

One night, after a party at Toni’s penthouse, Pepper stayed behind to help clean up. Both women’s cheeks were flushed with too much champagne. Toni leaned in and kissed Pepper with lips sticky from too much gloss. “Too weird?” 

“Definitely too weird.” They agreed, without so many words, to never try that again. 

It took another eight years for Toni to make Stark Industries her own. To be considered a superpower in her own right – and a threat to her godfather. 

When she was thirty-five, Obadiah Stane sent terrorists after Toni. It took a near-death experience, a few months in an Afghan cave, and the death of a good man who believed in her, for Toni to reemerge into the world. Every piece of her dismantled, broken down, reforged in fire. There were two things she discovered in that cave. The first was a breakthrough in arc reactor technology, the proof of which sat in her sternum, glowing blue. The second was found in the dying words of a stranger. Her humanity. 

So Toni stopped making guns and started saving lives. Arc reactor technology was the driving force behind Stark Industries’ new direction in sustainable energy and behind Toni’s heartbeat. 

If she moonlighted as a superhero, no one had to know that it was a woman inside that shining armour of red and gold. No one even guessed it. For once, Toni liked the anonymity. 

Pepper knew, because Toni had learned a long time ago that it was far easier to tell the truth than it was to lie to Pepper. 

As for Stane, he was fired from Stark Industries and descended into alcoholism. The final remnant of Howard Stark’s era. The last warmonger.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natalia Aliana Romanova was a woman who anticipated each and every one of her target’s moves. What she did not anticipate was Natasha Antonia Stark.

Natalia Aliana Romanova was a woman who anticipated each and every one of her target’s moves. That was what made her so good as an assassin, and what kept her alive since she defected from Russia. That and not trusting anyone.

What she did not anticipate was Natasha Antonia Stark. 

They met the day the aliens attacked New York. She did not expect Iron Man to join the fight alongside the team. _Her_ team, because she put it together. Captain America, Thor, Hawkeye. Even managed to coax the Hulk out to play. But Iron Man – he came out of the blue. 

And he was not a he at all.

Iron Man delivered the missile into space and ended the battle before he fell back to Earth in a lifeless metal tank of a suit. They wrenched the golden faceplate off to check his breathing, and Natasha found herself crouched over a bruised brow, bleeding nose, and impossibly long eyelashes. A face all too familiar from the news and paparazzi shots. 

“Natasha Stark.”

——————— 

Toni regained consciousness to the gritty air of the smashed remains of Fifth Avenue. She opened her eyes to red hair framing high cheekbones and the greenest eyes she had ever seen. 

“Please tell me no one kissed me.” 

Natasha’s full lips twitched like she was fighting a smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this! This fic will probably be short chapters interspersed with longer ones. I know it's not really conventional for a fanfic but what is convention anyway ha  
> Anyways please let me know what you think? Each of your comments always makes my day.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One night in February Natasha was reading a worn copy of War and Peace in bed. A near crash-landing on her balcony and she sprang out of bed, pistol in hand, Widow’s Bites around her other wrist. But out of a suit that was charred in some places and scratched in others, Toni Stark came stumbling out. 

Natasha Romanova did not anticipate Toni Stark. Did not expect the billionaire’s roguish charm to get to her. Did not expect to see right through the armour of sarcastic comments and bright red lipstick. Did not expect to find her as a woman powered by an unholy combination of caffeine, snark, and a fire to right the wrongs of the world, most of all the wrongs she was complicit in. Expected, less still, to connect with the woman beneath it. Soft and insecure, and desperate to leave behind something in this world other than death and destruction. Natasha respected that. Even more – she understood. 

One night in February Natasha was reading a worn copy of _War and Peace_ in bed. A near crash-landing on her balcony and she sprang out of bed, pistol in hand, Widow’s Bites around her other wrist. A lifetime of instincts no degree of security could override. But out of a suit that was charred in some places and scratched in others, Toni Stark came stumbling out. 

She eyed the weapons in Natasha’s hands. “I did _not_ survive that shitshow just for you to shoot me.” 

Natasha slapped the gun down on a shelf. “Then don’t land on my balcony in the middle of the night.” She didn’t ask where Toni had been. The bruise on her forehead, the bloodied nose, the scratched lips told enough of a story. 

“Aww Red.” Toni draped an arm around Natasha’s shoulders. Natasha pretended not to notice she leaned her weight on her. “Worried people might talk?” 

“More annoyed that you’re disturbing my night in.” Natasha tightened her arm around Toni’s waist and they limped back inside her living room. 

Toni slipped off Natasha’s shoulder and sank onto the couch. Strands of hair, escaped from the hair tie, clung to her face. “I can be quiet. Pretend I’m not here.” 

Natasha walked down the hallway towards the bathroom. “And let you get bloodstains all over my couch and my carpet?” she said over her shoulder. She returned a moment later with a first aid kit. 

Toni’s eyes widened a fraction. “Oh no Red you don’t have to,” she protested. In her voice a note of sincerity. Under that – a hint of panic. 

Nat simply shook her head. She'd had to stitch herself up enough times to appreciate the rare occasions when someone else could do it for her. She suspected Toni had, too. Natasha wasn’t the best spy in the Western hemisphere for nothing. She knew Toni’s nocturnal superhero shenanigans happened more often than she let the others know. Mornings when she would turn up with added weight to the bags under her eyes, pouring herself coffee with her non-dominant hand, the shade of a fresh bruise under concealer. 

Maybe subconsciously, Toni knew that she knew. Maybe that was why she was here tonight. Maybe she knew that Natasha would understand and not ask questions. Or maybe she saw the light on behind windows and drawn curtains and decided it was a safe place. Whatever reason Toni chose her balcony to land on tonight, Natasha would make sure she didn’t have to nurse her own injuries. 

She couldn’t say any of this. How could she, when their relationship, their strange friendship and implicit understanding of each other, rested on the thoughts of things unspoken? So out loud, all she said was, “Don’t be a baby.” 

She cleaned off the blood with a damp towel. Most of it was from her nose. That was good. It meant less visible injuries and scars. The scrape over her right brow, on the other hand, would take a while to heal completely, but at least wasn’t deep enough to leave a scar. “You’d think,” she said, cleaning the area around the cut, “that with a suit of armour you’d get banged up less.” 

Toni gave a huff of laughter. “You get banged up by the inside of the suit.” 

“Why not cushion it with something? Soften the blows?” 

“And walk around looking like the Hulk?” Toni scoffed. “No thanks. And thanks,” she added as Natasha finished cleaning up the blood on her face. 

“Woah, not so fast.” Natasha said. Toni looked at her quizzically. “You’re hurt somewhere else.” Toni’s face turned a shade pink. “Show me.” 

“Nah, I’m fine –“ 

“The way you moved.” Natasha blurted out. “Your left arm is hurt.” 

Toni sighed. Hung her head in defeat and her hair, escaped from the low ponytail, drooped over her face. “I hate it when you’re so observant.” 

“I’m a spy, it’s what I do,” Natasha answered. “Now show me.” 

“Fine.” Toni’s face reddened even more. She turned around to present her back to Natasha, her movements tight, and gingerly lifted her black polyester top over her head. Although she faced away from Natasha, her torso could not fully hide the blue glow that emitted from her chest. Natasha forced herself not to stare at the unnatural light, and instead looked at the graze across Toni’s left shoulder and back, extending into her sports bra. 

“That looks painful. How’d you do that?” 

Toni’s shoulders relaxed a little. The lines of tension in her spine softened by a fraction. “You don’t want to know, Red.” 

Natasha reached for the medical supplies. “You always call me that. Why?” 

“I have nicknames for everyone, in case you haven’t noticed." 

“No, I mean…” Natasha pressed a saline-soaked cloth to the wound. Toni gritted her teeth against the sting but did not make a sound. “You never say my name.” 

“I don’t like that name.” The words tore harshly from Toni’s throat. “No offence,” she added, a tad softer, with a hint of her usual nonchalance. Natasha was silent. Had Toni turned around she would have seen Natasha biting her lip, eyebrows furrowed in thought. But she didn’t. So she broke the heavy silence with a low voice. “I never liked being called that.” 

“Did anyone ever?” Natasha pulled up the edge of the sports bra to treat the wound. 

“My parents. My dad, especially. Usually was nothing good.” 

Natasha didn’t speak for a long while. Dressed the wound in silence. Finally, she said, “You don’t have to call me Natasha, if you don’t want to. Clint calls me Nat, or –“ 

“How ‘bout Tasha?” 

Toni looked over her shoulder and smiled. Waveringly. Gauging a response in Natasha’s unreadable face. 

Natasha thought about it, the flavour of the nickname in Toni’s mouth. “I like it,” she decided. 

Toni let out a laugh of relief. “Good. For a second there I thought you were going to stab me just for saying it.” 

“I might’ve, but I figured you’d been beaten up enough for one night.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

Natasha lifted the edge of the sports bra. “You don’t want this pressing into the scratches.” 

Toni hesitated. Natasha understood. She got up and went into the bedroom. She grabbed a t-shirt she slept in. Well-worn cotton, two sizes too big. Without leaving her room or looking at Toni, she tossed it in the direction of the sofa. Fabric rustled for a while, and then subsided. 

“Okay?” 

“Yup.” 

Only then did Natasha step back into the living room, book in hand. Toni sat cross-legged on the couch, wearing the grey t-shirt, her sports bra crumpled next to her. A hint of blue light emitted from her chest, only just noticeable. Her hair was out of its pony-tail. It was ruffled and slightly curly and sticking out in odd directions. Her lips quirked up in a small but grateful smile, a sentiment mirrored and magnified in warm brown eyes.

Natasha crossed the room and sat next to her, letting herself sink into the sofa and back into the words of Tolstoy. When she looked up half an hour later, Toni was curled on her side, breathing deep and even, eyes shut, mouth slightly open. The corner of Nat’s lips tugged up involuntarily. She got up, careful not to jostle the sofa, and fetched a fluffy throw from her bed. She draped it over Toni. It dwarfed her and she snuggled into it. 

Natasha returned to her book. Toni’s breathing merged with the hum of the night and the turning of pages. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the first of the longer chapters that are centred around an event.  
> Please let me know how you find this fic, I love each and every one of your comments!


	4. 4

“What happened?” Toni’s voice was sharp. 

“Leave it, Toni.” Natasha was too tired to deal with this right now. It hurt, and she wanted nothing but a hot shower and to curl up in bed in an oversized t-shirt and boy-shorts and sleep forever. 

But Toni stopped her with a hand around her bicep. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough that Natasha didn’t have the energy to push her off.

She sighed. Aware of the patchwork of blue and black on her face and arms. If she didn’t have the energy to physically shove Toni off, she had even less to be stubborn. Her shoulder slouched and Toni softened. Shifted to face her, even though Tasha’s head drooped and her hair obscured her face from soft, searching brown eyes. 

“Mission went south. They found me, I ran, they came after me, I crashed the car.” 

“ _Christ_ , Tasha." 

“But I’m okay.” Tasha raised her head to meet Toni’s eyes. “Got back here in one piece." 

“You’re okay,” Toni echoed. Brown eyes searching her face and something, relief perhaps, sinking in. “You’re okay,” she repeated again and pulled Tasha towards her, wrapped her arms around her, gentle so as not to hurt her, bur firm to pull her close. Natasha returned the hug, resting her head against Toni’s shoulder, and soaked in the touch of home. She thought she felt the quick press of lips against the top of her head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short little epilogue to the previous chapter. Next chapter will come soon (I guess?)  
> Thank you for the lovely comments you all left on the previous chapters during an extremely difficult time. I was about to give up on this fic but your comments made me come back and keep posting. So, thank you.


	5. 5

Even when she wasn’t masquerading as Iron Man, Toni Stark wore armour. Only it was invisible. Toni’s armour in public was her image as a woman. The world told her that only a man could fill Howard Stark’s shoes, and she proved them wrong by proving she was a woman. She wore evening gowns with open backs to galas and pressed pantsuits to board meetings. In front of the press, her makeup was always perfect, accentuating her wide eyes and long lashes. Her hair was kept at a sleek shoulder-length, swept to one side with a severe side parting, straightened and held in place with hair spray. 

The world still had no idea that Natasha Antonia Stark was the woman beneath the Iron Man armour, no idea that it wasn’t a man in there at all. That was the way she liked it. For once she didn’t have to do something because she was a woman, or despite being a woman. She envied men for that freedom and she created it behind a mask of titanium alloy. 

Out of the public eye, though, she was a different person. Swapped her business suits for rock band t-shirts and ripped jeans, tied her hair back with a rubber band in the shop, or left it free to curl about her ears and nape. The clothes, the makeup, the ramrod-straight posture – all part of her armour. Without them, she was softer, relaxed. Human.

With the team, by degrees, she showed herself as another person. As human. She had no choice when they took off the Iron Man mask after the battle of New York. But she did have one when it came to taking off her other armour, the ones she had worn for longer. She welcomed them into the tower, not as tenants or teammates, but as friends. Family. Letting in someone, for the first time in years, except Rhodey and Pepper and Happy. Letting in five other someones. She was still self-conscious – she knew that she was not what people expect of Natasha Antonia Stark. But looking at them, she knew she could simply be Toni.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author forgot to post this chapter (which comes before the gala chapter) because she is an idiot.


	6. 6

Camera lights flashed, and the glass walls flashed back at them. Toni Stark shot a well-practiced smile at the press, as polished as the limousine she just stepped out of. It was an art form she had mastered to perfection. She grew up in the limelight, was never free of its unforgiving glare, so she learned to turn smiles into double-edged blades. 

The bushes that lined the path from the road to the glasshouse were adorned with huge hydrangeas in full bloom. Their sweet scent hung thick in the air, mingling with perfumes and colognes. Toni waved at the paparazzi, the gold bracelet on her wrist catching the camera lights and tossing it back at them. She made her way along the garden path to the Victorian arched windows, stopping every dozen steps to pose for a dozen cameras with a hand on her hip. The form-fitting bodice and sleeves of her burgundy dress split open at the back, exposing her shoulders and the top of her spine. 

A few feet in front of her was the unmistakable, six-foot tall form of Steve Rogers. His dark blue suit that brought out the colour of his eyes. Though he smiled at the cameras, they sometimes came out as narrow-eyed grimaces against the glare of the camera flashes. He was a celebrity before he flew the jet into the Arctic Ocean, the biggest in his day, but perhaps nothing from the 1940s could quite rival the glamour of the annual Maria Stark Foundation gala. 

Toni came up behind him on matte gold stilettos and slipped a hand into the crook of his arm. A smile plastered on her wine-red lips, she tugged him to face the cameras. “Smile and wave, Cap.” 

The taut corners of his mouth relaxed into a genuine smile. They hugged and lights erupted around them. Camera flashes splashing against glass walls. 

They walked together towards the glasshouse, Toni’s hand on Steve’s arm. Leaning on him, guiding him. “This is a little more intense than I expected,” Steve admitted as they entered through the arched doorway. 

“Don’t hold your breath,” Toni quipped, leading them over to the bar. "It only gets worse from here. Two martinis please,” she said to the bartender. “Make one of them virgin.”

Steve chuckled. “And we’re here because?" 

Toni shrugged. “Still trying to figure that one out. Thanks.” She winked at the bartender and slipped her a tip. Passed the alcoholic martini to Steve and kept the virgin one for herself, even if she wanted nothing more than for alcohol to dull her senses through this evening. “So, Captain, where’s your date?” 

Steve took the offered drink, even though the serum meant that alcohol had no effect on him. “Where’s yours?” he countered. They strolled away from the bar, Toni occasionally giving a little wave or tip of her glass to an acquaintance whose eye she caught across the room. 

The corner of Toni’s mouth twitched up in a minute movement. “Dates aren’t really my style. I fly solo.” She stopped at the edge of the room, turned her head away from him and towards the rest of the room to survey the crowd. A gold ear cuff climbed up around the shell of her left ear. “I know they’re yours, though. You’re old fashioned and shit. So?" She turned perceptive brown eyes on Steve, one perfect eyebrow cocked. “Where’s your date?" 

He gave in. “Last minute mission.” He smiled, rueful. "Just one of the downsides of being in this business, I guess.” 

“Ah.” Toni’s smile might have been more of a grimace. “That old superhero-slash-SHIELD agent occupational hazard.” 

“But then again, what other business is there in this town?” Steve ducked his head. Perfect puppy-dog eyes peered out at Toni from beneath his lashes. "I’m ninety-five and this is the only business I’ve ever been in.” 

“I guess you’re stuck in this for life.” Toni chuckled, shaking her head. She gave Steve a sideways look. “But dating? You want to be with a girl who’s doing this too?” 

“But who else would get it?” he replied. “Anyway,” he added, the tips of his ears turning pink in a way that had nothing to do with alcohol, "Sharon's my date, we’re not dating.” 

“You do realise that that is literally self-contradictory,” Toni pointed out. 

“Toni, I meant she –“ 

But before he could finish his sentence, some rich asshole injected himself into the conversation and clapped Steve on the shoulder – “Captain America! Good to see you here!” He turned to Toni briefly and offered a limp handshake and a half-hearted “Nice gala, Ms Stark” before turning his attention back to Steve. He positioned himself halfway between the pair, his back deliberately turned halfway towards Toni. She grit her teeth in silence – she was used to this and told herself that at least she didn’t have to endure the torture of a conversation with him – and marched off in the direction of the bar. She saw the helpless look in Steve’s eyes, knew he tried to catch her attention, could feel his baby blues on her back. But she ignored that and tried to douse the fire burning in her gut with the last dredges of her martini. 

She slid her empty glass towards the girl at the bar. “Another virgin martini, please." 

“You weren’t flirting with the Captain, were you?” Drawled a husky voice next to her. 

Toni spun around. Natasha appeared at her side, wearing a sleeveless black gown. Its high collar, accentuated with silver, snug around her neck. Her hair was curled and pinned up into a bun at the back of her hair. It looked as though a whole can of hairspray had gone into it to make it stay in place. 

“Did you materialise from thin air?” 

She simply smirked. “Long Island, please,” she said to the bartender, meeting her eyes and flashing her a quick smile. “So?” She raised an eyebrow at Toni. “You and Steve?” 

“I wasn’t flirting.” Toni glared at the olive bobbing in her martini. “It was just polite banter between two adults.” 

“Fine line between that and flirting,” Natasha said lightly, as though she was dancing on the words _en pointe._

Toni was sullen for a few seconds. Seeing that she wasn’t going to reply, Natasha continued, the edge to her voice pronounced. “Can’t say I blame you. I have eyes.” She tilted her head towards in Steve’s direction. Dapper in his navy-blue two-piece, holding a conversation with easy manner, a good-humoured smile that both women could both see it was a little too tight to be completely natural. 

Toni murmured in agreement. “He’s so _dapper_. I’m not sure if I want to be him or if I want to jump him.” She chuckled. 

Natasha angled herself towards the billionaire, leaning forward slightly to lessen the distance between them. “But the thing is –“ she cut off abruptly when she met Toni’s eyes. Something flashed across hers, a second when her walls were down. In that moment Toni was sure she was going to confess a secret. But then the wall went up behind her eyes again and she looked away. Her voice was soft and low, without its usual edge. “Toni, I’m speaking as his friend. And your’s, too. He’s seeing Sharon. They’re good together. Don’t…” – her eyes darted away for a second before meeting Toni’s again – “don’t come between them.” 

Toni’s head snapped up and she looked at her sharply. “Sharon’s his date. They’re not dating.” She realised what she just said and grimaced. “ _Fuck_ ,” she muttered. _Get it together, Stark_. “Not that it’s any of my business, other than as a concerned teammate.” 

“I just don’t want you to get hurt. Either of you.” Natasha’s voice was even lower than before, so that Toni thought she might have been speaking to herself. But that was impossible – Natasha Romanoff didn’t talk to herself. 

————————

Natasha drifted at the edge of the crowd. The only way she could navigate events like these was with the Black Widow persona. Of course, she wore the mask constantly. So much that it was fused into her very skin. It was second nature – the coy smirks and low chuckles, the small talk and speaking without giving away anything about herself. But tonight she was a little too tired, and a little too preoccupied with a certain genius billionaire playboy – playgirl? – philanthropist, to play that part convincingly. Rather than go through the motions half-heartedly, she detached herself from the gala and hovered at the edges. Observing. Thinking. 

The conversation with Toni rattled her. It had veered, suddenly, unexpectedly, into intimate territory. Natasha Romanoff didn’t do intimate, and neither did Toni Stark. What had she almost said to Toni? She wasn’t sure herself. Only that there was some emotion, something which existence she didn’t want to acknowledge, that almost made it out – from her gut, past the beating heart in her chest, up her throat – until it stumbled on her tongue and she swallowed it. If she had let it – what syllables that would have slipped past her lips into the air? All she knew was that she could never let that happen. She would swallow them every time. 

Because what would happen if she said them? Let Toni know about the nagging feeling that gnawed at her deep inside, that she didn’t dare give voice to, even internally? Toni Stark was reckless and annoying and made bad decisions sometimes, Natasha knew that better than most. But none of that changed what she was at her core – _good_. Deeply, intrinsically, _good_. Natasha knew lots of people who did good things, donated vast sums of money to charities, gave resources to developing countries, visited children in hospitals. But most of them did those things for the recognition. Toni, however, put on the titanium suit, night after night, without ever lifting the mask. All to right the wrongs of her past and make the world safer, better. She was good and pure – things Natasha knew she herself was not and had never been. Toni, despite all the terrible things that happened to her, all the awful things she had directly or indirectly done, remained good. In return, she deserved something – some _one_ – good. If there was ever anyone who was good enough for Toni Stark, it was none but Steve Rogers. 

From across the hall, she watched the pair talk and flirt. Toni rolled her eyes at something he said and he laughed. He replied, saying something that made Toni’s eyes crinkle at the edges. There was a sour taste in the back of Natasha’s throat. She washed it down with the rest of her drink, left the glass on a table, and slipped out the back door. 

No one would notice her absence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the longer chapters that I really struggled with writing. I haven't really written Steve before, I hope I did him right! This takes place between Avengers and The Winter Soldier, so Steve is for a large part still getting used to the 21st century.
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Your comments are always the highlight of my day.


	7. 7

Toni Stark had a reputation. If she were a man she would be called a playboy, but because she was a woman, her romantic and sexual encounters were labeled in less savoury terms. Not that she cared. She knew enough by now that what the media wanted to say about her didn’t matter. There were bigger battles to fight. 

In most cases. 

It was Clint who came into the communal lounge waving a tabloid magazine. “Hey, Cap! Guys! Check this out!” He tossed it and it landed with annoying accuracy in front of Steve. The Captain leaned forward to read it, and his brows scrunched up towards the centre. Toni leaned over to see. On the glossy cover was a photo of Toni and Steve at the gala, their arms around each other. The headline read: STARK RAVING MAD FOR THE CAPTAIN. Beneath it the tagline: "Has America’s infamous cougar got her claws in Captain America?" 

Toni shoved it away. “Christ, they really won’t stop,” she grumbled. 

The magazine slid across the coffee table towards Bruce and he picked it up. He raised his eyebrows. By now the whole team – minus Thor, who was on Asgard – had gathered around and was passing the offending magazine around as Toni watched from her armchair. Clint teased Steve about his new celebrity status, now that he was defrozen and all. Imagine Steve and Toni hooking up! Careful Steve, she might sink her claws in you! Steve looked a little uncomfortable about it, his shoulders slightly hunched, arms crossed in front of his chest, but he chuckled and took it in good humour. 

Toni tried her hardest not to glare. Or stare. In fact she deliberately looked away from them – and noticed Natasha at the edge of the group. Not joining in, but observing with narrowed eyes. She looked away and just so happened to meet Toni’s eyes. She rolled her eyes in the direction of the men. 

Muttering something about getting a drink, Toni swung her legs across the arm of the armchair and half-jumped out of the seat. The men were still teasing and grabbing the magazine out of each other’s hands, so none of them noticed her slipping through the door to the kitchen. She paused in front of the liquor cabinet. She wanted the sweet numbness of alcohol, wanted to drown the ball of squirming worms in her chest with whisky. But she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Refused to fall off the wagon yet again. So she opened the fridge and poured orange juice into a glass. 

“You okay?” 

“Shit!” Toni jumped. Orange juice splattered onto the counter. “Jesus, Tasha. Don’t creep up on me like that.” 

She shuffled her feet. “Sorry.” She grabbed a roll of paper towels and helped Toni clean up. 

Toni mopped up spilled juice on the grey marble kitchen tiles. “It’s times like these that I really really wish I never got on the wagon." 

Natasha’s hands froze. Only for a millisecond. Her knuckles were white-tipped around the wad of paper towels. She scrubbed the tiles hard enough to clean off more than juice. 

Toni straightened up. “I’m used to people talking shit about me. Water off my back.” Toni threw the soggy paper towel into the trash with more force than necessary. The resounding splat was satisfying. “I suppose I should be glad they picked Steve, instead of someone I’ve actually kissed.” 

Natasha’s voice was rough. Green eyes blazing, muscles tense. “You’re just going to _let them_?” 

Toni gave a grim half-smile. There was something endearing about someone being indignant on her behalf, she had to admit. But what was the point? She was used to this. Being seen as a cougar who gobbled up innocent, all-American boys. She was only disappointed that Steve hadn’t stopped them. Had expected more of him. But Steve, too, was perhaps lonely in his own way. A man displaced in time, eager to fit in with his new buddies. Even if it was at Toni’s expense. 

She waved away Natasha’s outrage and slumped into a kitchen chair. “My love life's never been private. I’ve come to terms with it. Most of the time the tabloids speculate more than anything else and knowing that is enough for me to stomach it.” 

The furrow between Natasha's brows deepened. “This isn’t about those tabloids. Who gives a shit about them. This is about Steve and Clint and Bruce. They’re supposed to have your back. Just like you’d have theirs. I’m going to talk to Clint later. That” – she jabbed her thumb at the door – “was fucked up." 

“I don’t know why I expected anything different. All men are the same.” Toni blinked hard. Willed the tears back into her eye sockets. She didn’t know why she wanted to cry. Maybe because she thought Steve would be different. “Fuck. I can’t believe that I thought – that I liked –" 

The door opened. Toni jumped for the second time in fifteen minutes. “Godammit, stop doing that!” She snarled over her shoulder. 

“Uh, Toni?” 

A male voice. Uncertain. Sheepish. A voice that still tugged at the strings in her chest. She hated how her heartbeat ramped up. Traitorous. Should just take it out and replace it with another arc reactor. Probably would work better anyway. 

She didn't turn around. Her voice flat, under control, she said, “What do you want, Steve?” 

“I’d like to apologise.” 

In front of Toni, Natasha's eyes narrowed at the intruder. Without breaking eye contact with Steve, she said to Toni: “Need me to stay?” 

Toni paused. No one had ever asked her that before. In her experience, people just left. Or she did before they could. She shook her head. “I’ll be fine, Tasha.” 

Natasha dipped her head once. She stood. The legs of her chair scraped over the tiles. She laid a hand on Toni’s shoulder and gave a quick squeeze. It was comforting. Grounding. Then she moved towards the door. At Steve's side she paused. Gripped his arm, hard enough for the points of her fingers to dig little white wells into his bicep. She murmured something, words too low for Toni to pick up, but she could hear the steely tone. Then she left and the door closed behind her. Leaving Toni alone with Steve. 

Steve shambled into the kitchen. His shoulders were hunched, head ducked. His baby blue eyes darted to Toni’s and away. As though he couldn’t quite meet her eyes. _Good_. She pictured Natasha snarling it with teeth bared. 

Steve sat down in the chair Natasha vacated. He leaned forward on his elbows. “I’m really sorry about what happened back there. There’s no excuse for it, and I’m not looking for one.” 

Toni crossed her arms and leaned back. _Try harder._

Steve sighed. “ I’m really sorry. We all are. I should have stopped it as soon as it started. The press paint you in this way and we went along and joked about it, and that was insensitive. You deserve better than that from us. That’s no way for us – for me – to treat a teammate. A friend. We got your back, Toni. I promise, next time anyone says anything like that, we’ll stand up to them. Me and the other guys.” He looked like a remorseful puppy. “I’m sorry, Toni. Forgive me?” His blue eyes were imploring as they peered out from beneath his lashes. They tugged at Toni’s heart. She knew she couldn’t stay angry at Steve. Not when she felt this way. 

She gave a single, tiny nod. “Prove it, Rogers.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am an fool who posted the wrong chapter last time lmao so this update you get two chapters.
> 
> This chapter was quite hard for me to get right. I just can't seem to get Steve right. I tried to show that although he's a good guy – as are the Avengers – men can be complicit in casual sexism and misogyny. IDK how much of that got through lmao probably not much.
> 
> As always let me know what you think! The more you comment the sooner I will be encouraged to update.


	8. 8

Natasha Stark and Natasha Romanoff spent more time together. On Tasha's terms, most of the time. There was no ceremony to the ways she dropped in on Toni. Like a cat, she silently slipped into Toni’s space and made herself at home. When the mechanic was busy in her workshop, the spy would take up a space on the worn leather couch with a book, feet tucked neatly under her. When she noticed that Toni hadn’t been eating regularly, she would leave a cheeseburger in front of her. They monopolised one of the sofas in the common room, so that it was _their_ sofa, and the boys wouldn’t dare sit on it for fear of Natasha evicting them by force. On team movie nights, Toni and Natasha each sat on one end of the sofa, their legs tangling in the middle under a fluffy Hulk blanket, a bowl of popcorn set on their knees. Even when they were the only two in the common room, binge-watching reality TV, they would snuggle on their sofa rather than sit separately on any of the assorted couches and armchairs.

Natasha liked being near Toni. She was never still, always muttering to herself or tinkling with something or tapping out a rhythm. Meanwhile, Natasha could be so still, so lost in either her thoughts or observing her environment, that she forgot to move. Being near Toni grounded her to the present. Made her feel like a person. Not just a machine on a mission. She liked the workshop, too, liked the quiet companionship the space offered them. Toni with her little background noises, Natasha with her book or a sudoku. The bots would sometimes nudge her leg for attention and she would pet them like small dogs. Most of all, she liked the way Toni said her name. _Tasha_. All soft sounds, none of the harshness, the invisible armour that was all but grafted into her skin. With two syllables Toni broke through that and into some part of Natasha that she barely believed was there. 

Other times, after a night of crime-fighting, Toni would land on Natasha’s balcony instead of going back to her own floor. Natasha would bandage up her scrapes and bruises, always careful not to stare at the blue glow that emanated from her chest. More often than not, they would talk for the rest of the night. Sitting on the couch, then slumped on the floor, sometimes lying side by side on the thick carpet. Until one of them – usually Toni – fell asleep, safe in the space that Natasha made her own. 

One night, Toni came back with her armour dented in multiple places, worst of all the helmet. Barely able to stand on her own two feet, she stumbled into Natasha’s living room. Natasha directed her to the bathroom first, to wash off the blood that coated one side of her face and neck. After Toni’s wounds were dressed and she was clean, her damp hair curling around her ears and down to her shoulders, she sank into the thick rug on Natasha’s living room floor. She was certain her legs couldn’t hold her up any longer, and it took all she had to reman upright. Natasha came back from her kitchen with two glasses and a bottle of non-alcoholic wine that Natasha kept in the fridge just for Toni. 

She sat on the floor, legs crossing beneath her in a fluid motion. Almost ritualistically, she filled the two glasses and passed one to Toni. Toni took a sip. It was nowhere close to the wine she had at Christmas 2010, but good enough to fool her brain for now. She launched into a rant. “Do you know what’s the worst part of the armour? You might think it’s how hard it is but no, that’s actually kinda comforting cause it keeps you safe – well, relatively safe” – she gestured at the gash on her hairline – “but it’s hell for your back…" 

Before long, the bottle was empty. The lights were dimmed so that the apartment was illuminated by candles. Toni had long since lay down on her back, the fibres of the rug hugging the bare skin of her arms. Natasha soon joined her, their heads were next to each other’s, their bodies stretched in opposite directions. 

Maybe it was the crime fighting, or the bad nights of sleep she’d had recently, or maybe because she felt safe and comfortable here on Tasha’s floor, but Toni was beginning to feel drowsy.

Maybe that was why she spoke before she thought. “If you could be one of our teammates for a day who would you be?” 

An image flashed through Natasha’s head: Steve and Toni at the Gala, Toni’s hand in the crook of Steve’s arm, Steve’s smile bringing out a special sparkle in Toni’s eyes, camera lights flashing around them. She swatted it away. “Maybe Sam? It’d be cool to fly.” 

Toni laughed. “Oh yeah, if I couldn’t fly I’d totally pick Sam, too.” 

“Show off.” Natasha lightly slapped Toni’s shoulder. “So who’d you pick?” 

Toni turned her head sideways to look at her. “You.” She said it simply, without farce or ceremony. Because of the way they were lying, her face was incredibly close, as was the look in her eyes – honest and stripped of all her masks.

Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?” 

“You’re brave and you care about people. Nuh-uh– “ Toni shushed her as soon as she began to protest. “I see through that cynicism, Tasha, I invented and trademarked that nonchalant look. Deep down you do care. I notice it when you leave food for me or fill up my water bottle. I’ve seen you drape a hoodie around Clint’s shoulders when he’s fallen asleep, or explain our pop culture references to Steve, or ask Bruce to go out with you when he’s holed up in his apartment for too long. You’re also a total badass and you can take down guys like ten times your size, which frankly both terrifies and fascinates me. You’re fearless, every time we fight aliens or henchmen or mutant robots or whatever you’re right in the thick of things. All you have is _you_ – no tricks, no toys, no armour. Just you and the other guy. And somehow you always walk away as a survivor.” 

Heat crept up Natasha’s shoulders and neck and cheeks to the tips of her ears as Toni rattled off the list. “It’s about who you want to be for a day, Toni, not who you’d pick in a fight,” she mumbled. 

Toni chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Either way, I stand by my answer." 

The heat in Natasha’s face slipped down to her chest and warmed her from there. Golden, like sunlight.

“Would you ever date a teammate?” Toni asked. She did not look away, but fixed an unwavering brown gaze on her. 

Natasha could not stand the warmth in that gaze, knew that she could not resist the temptation to answer otherwise if Toni continued looked at her like that. So she fixed her eyes on the ceiling. “No.” Her answer was resolute. 

“Why not?” Toni pouted as a crease appeared in her forehead. She studied Natasha’s silhouette in candle light. Traced with her eyes the line of forehead, nose, lips, chin. 

“Too messy,” Tasha replied. “Feelings are messy.” 

Toni echoed the sigh. She turned her head to look in front of her, upward at the ceiling. “I guess you’re right. It would be too complicated.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this isn't very good but I just love Toni and Tasha so much okay?
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think, or if you're enjoying this story. It would genuinely make my day.


	9. 9

Natasha Romanova was a woman who made decisions with her head, not her heart. She did not _have_ a heart – at least not one that wasn’t rusted through.

So when she kissed Steve Rogers, it was a practical decision. Kisses were quite practical when it came down to it. They served a purpose. A strategic goal. “Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable,” she told him. They had to hide in plain sight from their Hydra pursuers. It was an option and she chose it. Nothing stirred in the cavity of her chest where a heart should live. 

But when she pressed her lips against his, a single thought floated, annoyingly, to the surface of her mind. 

Toni Stark was in love with Steve Rogers. 

And Natasha Romanova – wasn’t. At least, not with Steve Rogers. 

Not that it mattered, at that moment. When SHIELD was crumbling, when Hydra was rearing its ugly heads from within it. 

Matters of the heart never mattered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I was feeling bad about my writing for a while but some very sweet comments encouraged me to come back.
> 
> This is a short little chapter but a longer one is coming.
> 
> I'd love to hear from you guys, please let me know what you think of this chapter and suggestions of what you'd like to see happen between Toni and Tasha.


	10. 10

When Steve and Natasha and Sam turned up at the tower after SHIELD collapsed, Toni was holed up in her workshop. She was surprised that they came – or maybe she was surprised by her own surprise, because where else could a super soldier, an ex-pararescue airman, and a master spy go? Steve, she maybe unconsciously expected, because the Tower was as close to a home as he had since he woke up in the 21st century. Sam Wilson, she couldn’t have known of, but it didn’t surprise her that Steve was picking up strays and inspiring loyalty – the man was Captain America for a reason. But Natasha? She could have disappeared anywhere on the globe. And she chose to come back. 

That meant something to Toni. 

Toni blamed herself when SHIELD collapsed. She should have known that Hydra was festering in it all along, a rotten core spreading poison. Should have foreseen the threat and neutralised it before it became threatening. So everything that happened at SHIELD – it was her fault. Her fault that Steve was beaten within an inch of his life and dropped into the Potomac. That Fury had to fake his own death and disappear. That Natasha had a bullet hole inches from her heart. That SHIELD was reduced to rubble and all that stood between Earth and supernatural destruction was a bunch of ragtag heroes.

That meant she had work to do. Robots to build, defences to put in place, state secrets to track down. Because next time, she _would_ find the threat before it became one, and she _would_ eliminate it. Even if nothing stood between the threat and Earth but Iron Man’s metal body, and her own flesh-and-blood body encased within it.

She was about to go cross-eyed from work when she heard the workshop door slide open. If there were footsteps she didn’t hear them, and there was only one person in the world who could tread that lightly. Without looking up, she said, “I don’t recall giving you access to my lab.” 

“No,” agreed Natasha’s voice from behind her. “But JARVIS likes me.” 

Toni spun her chair around and looked up at the redhead from behind her glasses, raising a single eyebrow. “I knew you were a bad influence.” 

“Sir, if I may, Ms Romanova is excellent company,” JARVIS’s disembodied voice chimed in, sounding eerily like Edwin Jarvis. “And I believe that seventy-two hours without human company is simply too much.” Toni missed the butler with a deep ache. He would have approved of Natasha. 

“Stop calling me out,” Toni muttered. “Or I’ll mute you." 

“What are you doing?” Natasha planted her palms on the table and leaned forward. Keeping weight off her left arm – the side where there was a hole in her shoulder. Toni tried to suppress her guilty grimace, but she knew that there was no hiding from those perceptive green eyes. 

She spun back around on her chair and shoved an Iron Man gauntlet off the spare chair, gesturing in the same motion for Natasha to sit, which she did. Toni’s fingers flew over the keyboard, clacking away at the illuminated keys. The light of the screen reflected off her glasses. “You know those files you dumped on the internet? I’m saving everything and removing their electronic paper trail – as much as I can, anyway.” She caught Natasha’s eye in her peripheral vision and added, “Lots of unsavoury details we’d prefer to keep secret, right?” She knew how private Natasha’s past was. 

Natasha’s lips curved in a small smile. Grateful. Beneath the arc reactor, Toni’s heart seemed to glow just as brightly – but with golden warmth instead of blue power. 

In the softest of mutters, almost as though she were speaking to herself, Natasha said, “Not even SHIELD knows everything.” Then she resumed her normal volume and directed to Toni, “Is that why we haven’t seen much of you since we got here?” 

Toni’s fingers stilled. The clacking of the keys stopped. Because she couldn’t bear to look at Steve’s battered face? Because it was down to her to improve their planet’s security? Because she should have been there, or Iron Man should have, fighting alongside Captain America and Black Widow and Falcon, flitting between helicarriers, but he wasn’t? Because she needed to do something, could not sit here knowing that the world was saved and she stood by while it was in danger? Because _this_ – salvaging the files, salvaging Natasha’s history – was what she could do, the only thing she could do now?

She met Natasha’s eyes. Blankly, with no answer to give. 

The set of Natasha’s shoulders loosened. “We ordered Thai. There’s way too much food, even though Steve eats almost as much as the Hulk. Come upstairs if you want some.” She stood up. Toni grabbed her wrist. Lightly, but there was desperation in it. The warmth of Natasha’s skin, the faint throb of the vein in her wrist – it reminded Toni of how touch starved she was. 

“Wait.” Her voice was hoarse. 

Natasha looked down at her. Expectant. She was calm, still, but there was always energy resting just beneath the thin layer of her skin, coiled like a snake ready to strike. She could easily free her hand from Toni’s but she didn’t. Let it stay in her grasp. 

“Why did you come back?” The question was tinged with sadness, with desperation. 

Natasha’s brows drew together, a slight micro-expression that didn’t escape Toni’s notice. Vulnerability flickered behind her eyes, something that reminded Toni of the moment at the gala months ago, when she seemed on the verge of confession. But again, it was gone before Toni could register it for what it was. When she spoke, her words were drawn, measured. “Where else can I go? This – it’s home for me now.” 

For the first time in days, Toni smiled. The answer loosened something in her chest that had been there since Natasha first stepped through the door with Steve and Sam in tow. Some coil in her chest, nothing to do with the arc reactor, relaxed and relieved the pressure on an emotional valve. She stood up and spread her arms. “Welcome home, Red.” 

“I'm not a hugger.” 

“Don’t act tough with me. I know all your secrets.” Even before the words left Toni’s mouth, Natasha leaned in. Toni savoured her warmth, the weight of her body against hers, her solidness, her tangibility, all her softness and hardness, wrapped under skin and muscle and bone. She wrapped her arms around her, holding on and grounding her. 

Natasha was right. She was home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised here's the next chapter.
> 
> I love every single one of your comments, they're the reason I keep writing even though it's hard. So please leave a comment, it would make my day.


	11. 11

The summer SHIELD fell was strangely a good time for Toni Stark. The Avengers all came back to the tower. With SHIELD was gone, the tower was as close to a home they had, a place where being an Avenger still meant something.

There was room enough at the tower for all of them. Toni had designed the tower as a home base and it served that purpose. Bruce was a semi-permanent resident anyway, Steve and Sam and Natasha stayed there after they got back from DC, Clint joined soon enough, and even Thor was there when he was on Earth, more so now that his girlfriend, Jane, was working with Toni and Bruce on a project about space travel. 

In the long, humid days, they spread out, fanning across the tower, across the city, each carrying on with their own lives. For Toni, that meant long hours in the cool comfort of the lab with Bruce and Jane, or in various Stark Industries boardrooms. But when the sun dropped low over the city and lights started dotting the streets, they all came back, like birds returning to roost. 

One particularly cool evening towards the end of summer, when the slightest hint of autumn could be felt in the twilight air, they were all on the rooftop. The pool was lit up by underwater lights. Bruce was behind the bar – he had an excellent repertoire of cocktails. Toni had more than once considered slipping off the wagon just for one of his Singapore slings. Steve and Sam were splashing around in the pool. Clint spun a dart between his fingers, trying to coerce Thor and Rhodey into a game of darts. On the sofas, Jane was talking animatedly to Natasha, while the spy leaned back in her chair, one hand drooped over the back of the seat, the other holding a drink, a cool smile on her lips.

Hanging out at the bar, Toni sipped her mocktail. She was determined to stay away from alcohol, difficult as it could be, but old habits died hard and this way she got to hang out with Bruce. A lifetime ago, before she became Iron Man, she threw parties like this all the time – not with superheroes but with a dozen swimsuit models, men and women who were paid to look good in tight swimming trunks and bikinis, splashing each other and coyly pressing their bodies against Toni.

Even so, she found that she far preferred tonight. Surrounded by her teammates, who she would readily die for – not to be dramatic or anything – and actually sober enough to take in the moment and remember it. That Steve, Sam and Thor really were eye-candy in their swimming trunks was just a bonus.

But despite the men’s abs and biceps glistening on full display, Toni found her eyes drawn again and again to Natasha. To how her hair was almost copper under the warm hue of the lights, how she was silhouetted in the glow of the fairy lights, the clean line of her forehead, nose, mouth, chin. How lovely she looked in the dark blue swimsuit and sarong skirt, a strip of bared skin on her stomach that moved minutely every time she spoke. Then Clint plopped down next to her and slung an arm around her shoulder. She leaned into him, her upper body snug against his bare torso. Toni put her mocktail down a little too hard. The straw was thoroughly bitten. 

Movement in her periphery vision caught her attention. In a single, smooth movement, Steve climbed out of the pool. Water dripped from his toned shoulders and arms, muscles gleaming under terrace lights. He made his way to the bar and leaned his elbows on the bar. “Another old fashioned?” Bruce asked. 

“You got it, Bruce. Thanks.” Steve smiled. He lifted one elbow to angle himself towards Toni. “Not joining us in the pool?” 

A flash flood and she was submerged in a vision – water filling her nostrils and mouth, seeping into her lungs, she closed her lips but it trickled, leaked, _gushed_ in, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe _couldn’t breathe_ – 

She surfaced with a quick intake of air. She was back on the rooftop, lit by the warm glow of string lights, sitting on a bar stool, the solid wood of the bar under her arm, the hum of conversation and laughter in the background, Steve, bare-chested, muscles gleaming, in front of her. Did he notice her panic?

She gave a wry smile. “Not dressed for it.” She gestured at her outfit: the maxi skirt, the high-necked golden tank top that hid the glow of the arc reactor. 

“Too bad,” Steve said, “that you don’t live in this very building and have a bikini ready in your closet.” 

“Wouldn’t you like to see me in one,” Toni deadpanned. Her throat constricted with the memory of choking with water. 

Steve grinned, ducked his head, bashful. He really could be rather adorable, Toni appraised, but with none of the longing she had felt a few months ago.

Hie next words took Toni by surprise. “Listen, I wanted to say thanks.” He continued, “For letting us stay in your home. “Especially now when some of us – including me – don’t have anywhere else to go.” 

Toni smiled, it was small but it came from somewhere deep inside her. A gemstone, glowing with golden warmth, that Steve placed with his unexpected thanks. “You’re welcome, Steve.” 

Steve returned the smile and Toni remembered why she had been so charmed by it. “I needed to say it. For all of us. Before we left.” 

“You’re leaving?” The sounds faded from the background. Her world shrank – Steve’s face magnified in front of her, the coldness of her glass, the grainy wood of the bar under her fingers.

Steve nodded. Sober. “When I was in DC I found something out. About someone from my past. Someone important to me.” His blue eyes were clouded, troubled. “I have to chase it down. I owe him that much. Nat pulled some strings for me, got me started.” Toni’s stomach fell to her ankles. The stool seemed to disappear from beneath her. “Sam’s gonna come along, too.” He looked up and met Toni’s eyes. “We’re leaving tomorrow.” 

Toni’s mouth was dry. She had no reply. 

Steve straightened up. “Join us in the water anytime, if you change your mind.” Toni barely noticed the invitation, didn’t even have a physical reaction to the thought. Steve slipped back into the pool with Sam. 

Toni’s mouth was dry. She took a drink of her mocktail but it didn’t help. 

“Toni, you okay?” Bruce’s voice brought her crashing back. To the rooftop, the party, the splashing from the pool, the lights. 

She nodded. “Yeah.” She downed the rest of her drink as though it were liquid courage. She wished it were – she needed it.

“Are you bummed out about Steve?” Bruce pressed. 

“Why does everyone think I like Steve?” Toni snapped. 

It was unfair to lash out at Bruce, the reasonable part of her knew. But better angry than – whatever the hell was brewing in her gut, bitterness and deep sadness. That a certain assassin would leave just like that, without a word of warning. Maybe it was inevitable that everyone left in the end. Inevitable that she would always be left looking at their fading backs as they walked away. Until they disappeared and all she was staring at was the horizon. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled to Bruce. The apology was half-assed. She looked up to meet her friend’s eyes. “Really, I didn’t mean that,” she repeated, a tad more earnestly. “I just… I gotta go talk to Tasha for a sec.” 

She almost bumped into Rhodey but didn’t stop to apologise or explain.“What’s going on?” he asked Bruce, “Did Steve say something?” But by the time Bruce replied, she was out of earshot and marching towards the sofas. 

Where Clint and Natasha were sitting close together, legs almost tangling. Jane was gone and Thor had disappeared too. At Sam’s beckoning, Clint jumped off the sofa, took a running start and cannon-balled into the pool, sending up a huge splash. Natasha yelped in protest as she was half-drenched.

“Come and get me!” Clint taunted. 

“I will!” she retorted.

She made to get up just as Toni got to the sofa and sat down on the seat Jane had been in. Natasha relaxed back into her seat. “Oh hey, Toni.” A silver arrow necklace gleamed on her breastbone. 

Toni tried to be casual, but the mask was slippery and didn’t hold. Her smile was tense. “How you doing, Red.” It was flat, no inflation. 

“About to go kick Clint’s ass.” Her eyes narrowed. “You okay?” 

Toni nodded. Swallowed. “Always.” 

Natasha still looked skeptical but she didn’t push it. “Jane was telling me about your project on space travel,” she said, her voice guarded. “She’s very smart.” 

“She wasn’t boring you with shop talk, was she?” 

“Not boring, no, it was fascinating. Just felt like I couldn’t keep up.” Natasha scrunched up her nose. It was adorable and something deep inside Toni twisted painfully. 

Toni gave a short laugh. “So I guess there _is_ something you’re not good at.” 

“I don’t know everything, Toni.” She gave her that little trademark half-smile. "Definitely not astrophysics.” 

Toni’s insides frothed like a pot about to bubble over. This veneer of nonchalance, of detachment, was stifling. She blurted out, “Were you going to tell me? Were you going to leave me a post-it note – ‘be back later’? Or would you just disappear without an explanation?” 

A crinkle between Natasha’s brows. “What?” 

There was something grimly satisfying about catching a master spy off guard. Toni savoured the moment with morbid triumph. “I know you’re and Steve are leaving tomorrow." 

Natasha’s mouth fell half-open. She let out an almost-laugh, a huff of air from the back of her throat. “I’m not going with Steve.” 

It was Toni’s turn to be caught blind-sided. “Huh?” 

“Did he tell you that? I made it clear I wasn’t gonna chase his ghost with him." She gave a rueful little smile. “I’ve been down that road, and it never leads anywhere good. I gave him the intel I had, that’s it.” 

There was something more to that weird regretful look but Toni didn’t have time to analyse it. It could wait. It was over-shadowed by the revelation that – “So you’re… _not_ leaving?” 

Her eyes settled on Toni’s face. There was something soft about her expression. Something genuine. “I’m staying." 

With those words, soft-spoken in that husky voice, the storm brewing in Toni’s gut dissipated. She grinned, let out a short laugh of relief. She could breathe easy again, could feel the oxygen bubbling in her trachea, her lungs, her arteries. She hadn’t known. Hadn’t realised how much she would have minded Natasha’s leaving, until the possibility was put before her. Now it was taken away, and she was left in the wake of that realisation.

She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. Her eyes landed on Natasha’s hands, resting on her legs. The graceful angle of her wrist, down to her hands, the curve of each knuckle, each joint of her finger, in sharp relief. Her legs were crossed, part of her skirt lifted up and she could see her calf, a faint pink scar running up it. Toni’s eyes moved up. Driven by a subconsciousness deep in her brain, a subconsciousness that admired the fullness of Natasha’s lips in the low light. And Natasha was leaning closer too, in her green eyes flickered half surprise, half anticipation. As though she waited for this, as though she thought it would never happen. As though she wanted it, as though she couldn’t bring herself to – 

They both jumped back as a tidal wave hit them full-force. 

Natasha leapt up from the sofa. “That’s it! I’m coming for you, Barton!”

She turned back to Toni, expression a tang softer, but eyes glowing with mischief. “Want to help me get this asshole?” 

Toni shook her head. No swimming for her. 

Natasha untied her sarong and turned back towards the pool. A flash of red hair and blue swimsuit, she jumped into the water. She grabbed at Clint but he dodged out of the way with surprising dexterity for someone half-submerged, protesting through giggles. Natasha splashed him and he splashed her back. Soon Sam and Steve were enlisted in their water battle. 

The waves in her mind, in the dark cave of memory, threatened to surge up and submerge her, but Toni forced them down. She might not want to get in the water, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy pool parties with a handful of her favourite people in the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and happy holidays! Here's a long chapter I've been sitting on for a while.
> 
> I adore every single one of your comments, so please keep them coming.
> 
> I also take prompts/requests on my tumblr @katebishopofearth, drop me an ask anytime.


	12. 12

The face plate of the Iron Man armour gleamed smooth and expressionless. Pale gold against the crimson boldness of the shoulders and chest. Faceless, inscrutable. What would it be like, Natasha wondered, when those eye slits, glowing blue with power, turned on you? In a way, Iron Man was more terrifying than even Captain America or Thor – at least they were of flesh and blood, with human faces and recognisable emotions. But Iron Man was the faceless Avenger, who might not even be human, who hunted with machine-like precision and mercilessness.

What would it be like, she wondered, to be the woman inside the armour? To feel that much power coursing through your exoskeleton, to see enemies run? To be faceless, inscrutable? 

“If you make out with him I’m going to be jealous.” 

Natasha spun around to see Toni coming in through the door of her workshop, limping slightly from a fight a few days ago. She collapsed onto the couch with a huff, limbs sprawling everywhere, hair loose and wavy about her cheeks. 

Natasha turned away from Iron Man to face the woman that gave him life. “It must be freeing.” 

“Hmm?” 

“To not be seen at all,” Natasha explained. Toni might have grown up in the spotlight, learned to live with it, even be comfortable under its glare, but that was just another of the masks she donned, much like Natasha and her layers of masks and disguises. “When you’re Iron Man. Is that freeing? To be able to put on a mask and not be you?” 

Toni exhaled. “You and I both know there are more to masks than putting on that armour.” 

“True.” Natasha conceded. “But wearing the Iron Man mask is different from wearing Natasha Stark." 

Toni’s jaw tightened slightly at the mention of her given name. Her brown eyes fixed on some point behind Natasha’s shoulder – Iron Man’s golden face. Her other half, her alter-ego. Where Natasha Stark was glamour and irreverence, clever words and dazzling smiles, Iron Man was titanium and gold, silent fire and sleek power. When she finally spoke her voice was even, but there was a certain tightness in her jaw. "My entire adult life I knew that as a woman, I would have to be two, three, five times as good as a man to earn a seat at the table. I did exactly that.”

Her voice roughened, the words rising up within her fast and urgent. “Every day, I have to fight to make them see my worth. Those condescending assholes still see me as Howard Stark’s daughter, some dumb heiress who had everything delivered straight into her lap. But when I’m Iron Man, none of that matters. All that matters is helping people, saving the world, and righting wrongs. It’s a lot simpler when you’re not a woman.” Her eyes returned to meet Natasha’s and her features relaxed slightly. “Although I’m putting on a mask it feels more like taking all the others off.” 

Natasha walked around the couch and sat down. Nudged Toni’s feet out of the way to make room for herself. Toed her shoes off and curled her feet on the worn leather, toes against Toni’s calves. “Can you take them off? Be someone under all of them?” 

Toni thought for a moment. “Sometimes,” she finally answered. “Others, it’s hard to tell where Natasha ends and Toni begins. Or where Toni ends and Iron Man begins.” She nudged Tasha’s bare foot with her own. “You get it. Masks and all.” 

Natasha met Toni’s eyes with a small smile. She did. "The truth is a matter of circumstance. It’s not all things to all people – and neither are we.” They were more alike than she had bargained on, that day two years ago, after the Battle of New York, when they took off Iron Man’s mask and saw Toni’s face under it. She was surprised at the strange friendship that ensued, the wordless exchanges and understandings. But also surprised at her own surprise, because were they not two sides of the same coin? War and espionage, nonchalance and cynicism.

And under those masks, under Iron Man and Black Widow, who were they? _What_ were they? She knew who Toni was, recognised the defiant spark in her, the burning desire to do _good_ , to atone for her past and protect the Earth in the way only a genius with her resources could. But herself? 

Natasha’s smile disappeared. Her eyes dropped down to her knees. Shying from Toni’s glance. “Without circumstances, without missions or aliases or masks –” She swallowed hard, hating feeling weak, feeling vulnerable. But Toni had a way of drawing out the truth in her, even if they were truths that she would rather never name. “I don’t know how to take my masks off anymore. Don’t know who’s under there – if there even is anyone at all.” 

Toni made no reply. Waiting. Understood how hard it was for Natasha to talk about herself. Gave her time to speak at her own pace. And she did. 

“Being a fighter is the one thing I’ve always known. What I was born and trained to do. I’ve fought for the highest bidder, for the KGB, for SHIELD, for Hydra.” She scoffed through the lump in her throat. “I’ve been so many people, for so many people. All without really knowing who I am, beyond the next mission. Now that SHIELD is gone – now that there isn’t another mission – where does that leave me?” Her green eyes glimmered with a loss that was soul-deep. “Who am I, when I don’t know who to fight for?” 

Toni reached for Natasha’s foot and squeezed it. Natasha’s gaze rested there – on the chipped nail polish on fingernails, on the stained and scarred fingers. “You’re an Avenger. You fight for this world and everyone in it. You were the one who put this team together. Without you, there’d be no us.” 

Natasha met Toni’s eyes with a forlorn gaze. “And if one day the Avengers are gone, scattered? A memory?” 

Toni leaned closer. There was a slight, almost unconscious smile on her face that brought out the little crinkles around her eyes. “Then you’re still the most fearless, stubborn, practical person I know. Someone who cares deeply, even if won’t let anyone see that. Someone who came from a place darker than I can imagine but is determined to see the light, and to make things right, whatever it takes. Also someone who forgets how amazing she is but that’s okay, because I’m here to remind her, as often she she needs me to." 

A tiny smile floated to Natasha’s face from deep within her. It was a rare moment when Toni Stark didn’t disguise her feelings as sarcasm and witty quips, but even rarer when it was on behalf of someone else. That she reassured Natasha with such bare-faced sincerity – maybe that was what gave Natasha the courage to be vulnerable in return. “And to you, Toni?” She spoke in barely above a whisper. “Who am I to you?”

Toni’s heart stuttered. The arc reactor in her chest was the most powerful energy source in the world, enough to power her heart for fifty lifetimes, but in that moment her heart beat like fifty arc reactors humming at once. She shuffled forward on the couch, towards Natasha. Reached for her hand, skin smooth on the back, rough on the fingertips, a raised scar along a knuckle, invisible to the eye but tactile to the touch. Held her gaze. Held it and didn’t let it go.

In a low voice, she said, “Can I show you?” 

Natasha’s eyes didn’t leave hers. She nodded. 

“Promise you won’t karate chop me?” She gave a cheeky grin. 

Natasha rolled her eyes, smile turning crooked, and nodded. 

Toni leaned forward and pressed her lips against Tasha’s. 

_Soft_. That was the only thing that registered in Natasha’s mind. Toni’s lips were soft. Softer than those of someone who worked with metal and explosives and engines and enclosed herself within an iron shell should be.

She kissed Toni back, the feelings she kept cocooned inside her stomach for months burst into butterflies.

She pulled back, searching Toni’s face. Her expression half disbelieving, half hopeful. 

“Was that okay?” Toni asked shyly. 

In reply, Tasha crashed her lips hard against Toni’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we've all been waiting for this one for a while :) I hope I managed to do this moment justice.
> 
> Please let me know what you think, I adore every single one of your comments.
> 
> And if you want to see Tony and Natasha in any verse doing anything, please drop an ask to my tumblr @katebishopofearth. I promise I'll answer most things even if I do take some time to get round to them!

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this wip for about a year now. I'm quite happy with this beginning but not sure where it's going lol. Will likely post the rest of this as kind of fragmented moments and one-shots, in relatively short chapters.
> 
> Please please tell me if you liked it and what you think and what you'd like to see next!


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